


but maybe everything that dies someday comes back

by janie_tangerine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x03 spoilers, Afterlife, COUGH GUYS YOU ALL GOT WHERE THIS IS GOING RIGHT, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Robb Stark is a Gift, SPOILEEEEERSSS, Season/Series 08, Theon needs a hug he gets somewhat more, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, d&d i hate you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 19:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: What in the seven hells, or better, where in the seven hells is he?Well, fine, most likely he’s not in the Seven Hells themselves, because if you ask him his idea of any of them didn’t include actually going back to how he was before he ever ran into Ramsay Bolton in the first place, and surely a godswood full of white, fluffy snow with warm sun shining on the trees doesn’t sound like a hell in the first place. But if it’s not one of them, then — then where is he?“Let me tell you, I wasn’t expecting you this soon,” comes from behind him, and Theon immediately turns on his back, thinking that he must have imagined that voice, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t —





	but maybe everything that dies someday comes back

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be very short and not too sweet, but:
> 
> a) HELLO THROBB PEOPLE IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME I'LL BE FULLY BACK SOON BUT FOR NOW UHM HI I KNOW, I KNOW;  
> b) an anon on tumblr after the........... DISAPPOINTMENT of an episode that was 8x03 and let's say disappointment to put it lightly, asks _I’m gonna need some good fluffy and smutty Throbb in the Afterlife fic to ease the pain please and thank you_ and tbh I kinda needed it too so THEY ASK, I COMPLIED;  
> c) let's say that the fact that now they're together in the afterlife is the only upside (imvho) to That Decision The Council Took;  
> d) this is pretty much the entirety of what I'm willing to acknowledge re Theon's canon storyline - this or other afterlife fics and I said what I said, for the rest well, I always said book canon was superior xD
> 
> That said: ENJOY THIS THING IDEK WHAT IT IS, and <3333 to all of us ;_;
> 
> Also: the title is from bruce springsteen (ngl I've been wanting to use it for throbb fic forever soooooo), nothing belongs to me (lmao 8x03 would have been wildly different if it did) and I'll saunter back downwards. See you on the other side guys. /o\

Theon opens his eyes.

This is already unexpected in the first place — when he had closed them, to snow falling in front of him and wights walking past him and towards Bran

(he _failed_ , didn’t he?)

he hasn’t really counted on ever opening them again. He _had_ known what he was doing. He hadn’t even expected to survive, honestly, so — that’s it. He closes them. He opens them again.

Then he finally notices where he is.

It’s still the godswood, but it’s not dark. It’s… it looks like sunrise, more or less. He goes to his feet, planting them in the fresh snow — _fresh_?

Wait a moment. It’s _too_ fresh. Too white, too soft, too fluffy, and the warm orange light from the sun mixed with pink makes it almost glow. He moves it away with a foot just to realize it doesn’t get dirty.

 _Wait a moment_ —

He takes a breath, and realizes that he hadn’t until now, and he hadn’t needed it.

His hand goes to his breastplate, over his heart.

It’s not beating. He touches his wrist. His skin is warm and looking at it… it doesn’t look deathly pale. It looks a warm shade of pink, a bit tanned, slightly touched by the sun.

Then he looks down at his hands for real and he almost does a double take. He has _all_ of his fingers again. His nails are whole. He gasps, and maybe it’s kind of pathetic that then he puts a hand on his breeches because until now he got so adjusted to _not_ think about the status of what’s in between his legs that he hadn’t even _thought_ about it —

He immediately moves the hand away as soon as he realizes that _yes_ , whatever this place is, he’s whole in it. _Completely_ whole.

What in the seven hells, or better, _where_ in the seven hells is he?

Well, _fine_ , most likely he’s not in the _Seven Hells_ themselves, because if you ask him his idea of any of them didn’t include actually going back to how he was _before_ he ever ran into Ramsay Bolton in the first place, and surely a godswood full of white, fluffy snow with warm sun shining on the trees doesn’t sound like a _hell_ in the first place. But if it’s not one of them, then — then where is he?

“Let me tell you, I wasn’t expecting you this soon,” comes from behind him, and Theon immediately turns on his back, thinking that he must have imagined that voice, it couldn’t be, it _couldn’t —_

And instead —

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Robb is standing in front of him, wearing those clothes Theon _knows_ he donned at the Red Wedding because _hadn’t he donned the same ones after_ , but not torn nor dirtied with blood. He’s slightly older than Theon remembered him, for obvious reasons, but those Tully blue eyes of his are the same, and the red curls and beard are the same, and the smile he’s giving him is the same as he used to when it was just the two of them a lifetime ago —

“You — _weren’t_?” He asks, not quite realizing what’s going on, realizing that it’s not the answer he should have given him. Robb smiles wider and shakes his head.

“Not quite. We were all rooting for you, you know.”

“You _all_ were — doing _what_? Robb, am I making this up? Is this — just some dream people have just before they die, or —”

Robb comes closer, his eyes still glinting with slight amusement, and hadn’t Theon missed that look? He _had_ —

“In order,” he says, “sorry to say but no, you’re dead. Same as I am. Same as everyone else in here is, but I’ve been sent as your official welcoming party because everyone assumed I would be the best choice _and_ I volunteered and I kind of wanted to be alone with you for a moment before, well, _before_. You’re not making this up, I thought the same when I got here, but it’s not the case. And with _all_ , I mean… Theon, this is Winterfell. Father is here, Mother is here, Rickon is here, everyone else who died before now is here and we _do_ see what happens with the living, we just can’t interfere. And we were all hoping you’d pull through because everyone saw you regretted what you did, but I suppose the Night King was too much for almost anyone. That was very brave of you, though.”

Theon isn’t sure he has any words left, so he _does_ try to come up with something — he wants to reach out and touch, but he’s not sure he can or that he should, and so he doesn’t.

“It — it wasn’t. Not really. I did save him once and then I got everything wrong, I’m — glad I did it twice. I hope he’s not dead yet, but —”

“No,” Robb shakes his head. “They won the battle.”

“They _did_?”

“Quite at the last second, but yes. That said, that’s not why I wanted to see you alone first.”

“Robb, wait,” he interrupts, the words tumbling out of his mouth, knowing that if he doesn’t speak them now he won’t find the guts again and knowing he owes it to Robb to tell him, “I — if I don’t tell you _now_ I can’t — I’m sorry I never came back, I’m sorry I ever thought taking your castle was a good plan, I’m sorry I didn’t understand that I should have been with you all along and if you wanted to see me alone first because you want to punch me in the face I wouldn’t begrudge —”

“Gods, you _are_ an idiot,” Robb cuts him off, shaking his head again, and then his hands are on Theon’s face and he’s dragging him in and _wait what is he doing is he going to_ —

Robb’s mouth is on his own a moment later and Theon decides that whatever blessings the Old Gods decided to bestow on him in his time of death, he’s _not_ going to refuse them, and so he kisses Robb back the way he used to a lifetime ago, before he left for Pyke, when it was _you don’t have to call me your Grace when no one is around_ and _I’ll be your brother now and always_ and none of what happened later had fallen in between them, when his father was still a hope that they could build a future together and not Theon’s own death sentence, when Robb wasn’t even a king and then he was but he wasn’t _dead_ , and his mouth feels the same, warm and soft even if his beard is rough, and Robb’s hands are in his hair, grasping at it, and maybe none of their hearts is beating but he can feel Robb’s blood boiling under his skin, and he doesn’t know how this entire thing works, but he doesn’t really care. Not at all.

Also, _apparently_ you don’t need to breathe, if you’re dead, which means that when they move back he doesn’t know for how fucking long they kissed but it was definitely longer than he’s ever kissed anyone without breaking apart before diving in again, and — Robb is smiling at him, so sweetly he could faint, and Robb’s fingers are twirling his hair around the tips.

“That said,” he grins, “I like the long hair like this. Suits you.”

“Robb, are you seriously discussing my _hair_ when —” He laughs, not quite knowing what to do, and then Robb shakes his head again.

“Theon, I’m going to say this _once_. I know everything, I know why you did what you did, I’ve been dead quite a while longer than you, I’ve seen it when you were told about the Red Wedding, I’ve seen everything you did to make up for it, I’ve seen you almost die for my siblings time and time again, I’ve had all the time in the world and more to mull over all the reasons why we ended up where we did, and all things considered, _yes_ , I’d rather discuss your hair than hashing all of that again. We fucked up, we both paid for it in spades, I haven’t seen you in _quite a damn long time_ , I hoped it would be longer, it wasn’t, you’re here, I want to make up for lost time. Now, the question is, _do you_?”

Theon is honestly so — he hadn’t expected _this_ , not Robb’s fingers in his hair nor his shaking ones on Robb’s shoulders, and they’re dead but maybe not _enough_ and that’s — oh gods, yes, _yes_ , he wants it, he needs it, he —

“Yes,” he blurts, “ _yes_ , of course I do, but —”

“No _buts_ ,” Robb smiles back. “After all, we wouldn’t be doing anything that _everyone_ who survived in Winterfell isn’t doing right now, I think,” he says, and then his hands are on Theon’s breastplate, quickly removing it and throwing it to the side, and Theon does the same with Robb’s cloak — _that_ one ends on the soft snow, and his armor disappears somewhere behind the trees as his hands open up Robb’s shirt and Robb almost tear apart his laces before he pushes his breeches down.

Theon is _not_ going to spend a single second pondering how this _afterlife_ works and how he’s so hard it hurts when technically his heart isn’t even beating and instead screams out loud the moment Robb leans down and takes him in his mouth without ceremonies — shit, _shit_ , this hasn’t happened in years and not with _Robb_ surely, and his mouth is hot and wet around Theon’s cock as he takes him down and _down_ in his throat, Robb’s tongue running along the head once, twice, thrice, until Theon loses count and his hands go to Robb’s curls, grasping at them, moaning his name out loud, and shit but he had forgotten how good it felt, and of course he did, it’s been _years_ after all —

Robb sucks down harder on him without even trying to make it last and before Theon knows it he’s come inside his mouth, and Robb’s swallowing and he has his head pressed against his crotch, and Theon’s entire frame is shaking with pleasure and the white of the snow on the trees is turning almost blinding as he feels tears burn his eyes, and then Robb is moving back, grinning, licking his lips, his beard sticky with come, and that’s when Theon realizes belatedly that Robb hasn’t breathed _once_ , and —

Right.

They’re dead, aren’t they, which means —

Robb drops next to him, then moves slowly on top, still smiling that lazy grin, leaning down for another kiss, and another, and he tastes salty, of course he does, and Theon hadn’t tasted himself on Robb’s mouth for so long, now he feels like he could do it forever, and well, wait, they _do_ have forever, don’t —

“By the way,” Robb says, grinning, a hand moving to Theon’s dick again, slowly starting to jerk him off, “I feel compelled to inform you of something.”

“Feel free,” Theon breathes, looking up into Robb’s wide, blue eyes, and yes, fine, he’s dead, sounds perfectly logical that _that_ is what he’s seeing.

“We don’t need to breathe,” he grins, “and we don’t even have to _wait_.”

Theon immediately understands what he means a few moments later, when after not long stroking his cock he feels hard _again_ , not as much as before but _close_ , and Robb’s own, achingly hard erection is pressed against his legs, and at that point Theon thinks he might start to understand what Robb meant.

“And tell me,” he grins, his old charming grin coming back to him at once, “does that mean that it doesn’t even _hurt_?”

Robb grins back, equally delighted, spitting on his fingers before he moves them to Theon’s ass, pushing them inside slowly. “A bit,” he says, “but it stops after a while. And no wounds, of course.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Then,” Theon says, “while I’ll… be glad to meet the others, maybe I _do_ want to make up for lost time with you first, _Your Grace_.”

“It will be my _uttermost_ pleasure,” Robb laughs, not even minding the title as he used to, and when not long later Robb is fucking into him slowly, _slowly_ , taking his time, his hands in Theon’s hair, carding through it, as Theon’s own fingernails grasp at his shoulders and he screams out Robb’s name over and over again, with each thrust, with each time Robb cants his hips downwards and fucks into him like it’s been too long, and _it’s been_ , Theon finds his mouth again, and again, and _again_ , and it’s as good as he remembered from when they were young and alive and they hadn’t ruined their lives yet.

“Fuck,” Robb says as he thrusts inside him, and Theon’s lost count of how long they’ve been at it, his legs crossed behind Robb’s back, their mouths kiss-swollen and the cloak getting progressively wrecked, “ _fuck_ , I missed you so much, I —”

“Because I _didn’t_? I’ve — I’ve known I should have died with you since —”

“No,” Robb says, “you shouldn’t have, it was horrible, you deserved a better death than _that_.”

“Why,” Theon breathes, “didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Robb says, “but for one, I’m really glad you _didn’t_ die with me, and since now it’s a moot point, let’s just — never go there again, all right?”

Theon _has_ to laugh, finding Robb’s lips again, and —

“Fuck,” he blurts, feeling so close he’s about to burst, and feeling Robb plunge inside him, his entire frame shaking with need, “I — I missed you so much, I —”

“I love you,” Robb interrupts him, “I always did, and I could have waited another hundred years but now you’re _here_ and I —”

“Gods, Robb, I’ve always loved you, I’m just sorry I never —”

“ _Stop apologizing_ ,” Robb says, his voice wrecked, and then he kisses him again and Theon can’t hold back anymore — he throws his arms around Robb’s neck, kisses him back as Robb comes inside him with a last, deep push and he comes against his stomach at the exact same time, the two of them holding to each other, impossibly warm even if they’re surrounded by snow, the sun over their heads still warm and bathing the entire place in ethereal light, and he _knows_ they won’t meet anyone else for a very long time.

That’s fine.

They _do_ have forever in front of them now, don’t they?

 

 

End.


End file.
